Poem by Stephen Crane

* * *

With eye and with gesture
You say you are holy.
I say you lie;
For I did see you
Draw away your coats
From the sin upon the hands
Of a little child.
Liar!

1. Tradition, thou art for suckling children
2. I saw a man pursuing the horizon
3. In heaven
4. Mystic shadow, bending near me
5. There was crimson clash of war

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